


License to Q

by internetname



Series: From Q, With Love [8]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2460221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q takes Picard back to their garden, where he finally meets the owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	License to Q

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago under the name Veroneeka. I need to thank the incredible patience and kindness and general wonderfulness of Ruth Gifford, the beta-reader from Heaven.

Picard lay very still, not wanting even a breath to move Q inside him. 

Q was moving only enough to press his kisses onto Jean-Luc's shoulder. The rest of his body lay still on top, along, and inside his lover, warm and deliciously heavy. The only sounds were quiet breaths and the hum of the engines as the Enterprise sped at warp six to the Klingon supply station on Pa'Quon IV. Once there, they would offload fourteen IPS series plasma conduits, eighty-five crates of self-sealing stem bolts, over seven hundred kilos of various medical supplies, including five alpha-rated medkids, and thirty-two baffling plates for standard warp manifolds. 

There was a concert scheduled for tonight, featuring Data's performance of the Paganini First Violin Concerto. Riker and Troi were to turn in their crew evaluations the following morning. Astrophysics would be testing their new display modules the following afternoon. 

Carefully, Q shifted his hips, and the man beneath him sighed as he was caressed so gently inside. Q was just starting to get hard again, and the slight pressure was delectable. The man felt boneless as a Changeling, completely surrounded and sheltered and... 

"Oooohh." Q had moved again, just a bit, and the man's penis was beginning to press into the bed as the lazy, sated pleasure collected urgency. 

A bead of sweat trickled down Q's nose and landed on the back of Jean-Luc's head. The entity lowered his lips to kiss it off, then began kissing the back of his neck. They were both covered in perspiration, sliding against and sticking to each other a bit as the first movements flowed together into long strokes. Picard arched his back, tilting up his hips as Q moved to his elbows for better leverage. 

"Ughhh," Picard grunted as Q's now quite hard cock plunged deeply inside, filling him with strength and stimulating his prostate. Just as hard himself, the man rubbed himself into the black satin sheets Q preferred and felt spoiled and gluttonous and unashamed. There was no fear, no hesitation, only pleasure, only the perfection of Q all through him. He was moving against Q's thrusts now, letting everything build up. His body was suffused with heat, everything began to tingle, he was trembling and moaning softly as his breaths grew ragged, and Q's lips were still bestowing kisses on his neck, up and behind his ears, down and on the top of his spine. 

Held down with Q's weight, there was nothing for Jean-Luc to do but feel, nothing expected of him but to achieve the climax which was building all on its own, nothing for him to think of but his partner and the pleasure Q gave him. 

And then Q's hands were on his shoulders, and Q was pumping forcefully, grunting a bit with the effort. Rousing himself, Picard began to clench around him and release in perfectly matched rhythm, but then Q stopped, his heavy breaths warm on Picard's back, and, with a soft moan, the man relaxed as much as he could, laying there as passively as Q could like. 

With a grunt for approval, Q resumed thrusting deeply into Picard's body, angling his hips, rumbling now deep in his chest. With nothing to do but feel, the man couldn't resist very long. 

"Ahhh," Picard warned. 

Q pumped harder. 

Picard came into the sweat-soaked satin and Q came in him. Waves of pleasure, shuddering groans, eyes closed tight against dancing light, almost more than they could bear, and so good, so impossibly good. 

Afterwards, slowly, pushing mostly against gravity as he slid off Picard's slick back, Q lay on the bed beside him. 

The computer chimed softly, a pre-set reminder that the concert was to begin in forty minutes. Slowly, Picard gathered himself, and spent the next thirty-five minutes pressing kisses onto Q's lips and holding him close. 

Data nodded as the captain came in, then, cautiously, nodded to Q as well, not showing his surprise at the entity's appearance. It was only his third public appearance on the ship in the nine months he and the captain had been together. The first was the peace conference party, the second a one-act play by Dr. Crusher's workshop in which the captain had performed a small role (Q had sat quietly smiling to himself the whole time and everyone except the captain had been overtly nervous). Data saw no reason why Q would want to the attend the concert tonight, and had to battle a moment of resentment -- quite a rare emotion for him -- that the captain's spouse had singled him out for such a distinction. 

Perhaps, the android thought as he began his performance, this was Q's way of announcing that he was going to be taking a more active part in the ship's social life. The captain's spouse was generally expected to accompany the captain at such events as this. 

With that thought, Data set the issue aside for now, concentrating the bulk of his attention on the emotional responses generated in his neural net by the notes he was playing. 

_Poor Data,_ Q thought to himself. _He just doesn't get it, does he?_ Who cared what they were doing? He was only here to be with Picard, and if the others on this ship were too dense to understand that... 

_It's not their fault, Q. They don't know what it means to love you._

Q suppressed a shudder. Oh, what were they doing here when they could be off making love somewhere? 

_I've got to show myself upon occasion. I'll make it up to you later. Now pay attention to Data's playing. He's really getting much better._

Q had already noticed that. It had interested him for all of about .2 seconds. He was only here to be with Jean-Luc, and to sit close to him like this, everyone sitting in their little chairs, was torture. He seriously began to consider the advantages of leaving. 

And then something nudged him. Something...some pleasure from Picard was flowing into him. Pleasure at Data's playing. 

It wasn't ecstasy (and never would be if that android couldn't figure out what "con espresso" really meant), but it was warm and it was Jean-Luc. Q felt himself relaxing into the captain's pleasure. Picard was enjoying the music, enjoying the performance of his friend and second officer, enjoying the knowledge that Q was here with him, and Q enjoyed that Picard enjoyed it all. It wasn't as good as listening to Jean-Luc play his flute. But then, little was. 

After half an hour of sitting with his hands in his lap, Q realized there was a certain emotional release in applause. Certainly, he did nothing but what was polite, his face blank, but even so it was somehow pleasant to join in this human approbation of a well-liked colleague. 

The little reception afterwards actually wasn't so bad. It wasn't formal, for starters, and Data was rather amusing in his enjoyment of everyone's praise. Troi only came by Q for a moment to tell him she was glad to see him -- the fact that she _was_ glad annoyed him greatly, but it wasn't a major issue in his life one way or the other. Riker came by and managed not to bristle too much, which pleased Q because it pleased Picard. Crusher came by and did bristle a bit, which pleased Q even though it did not please Picard. And the new senior pilot, Lt. Julia Austin, came by to ask him if the Continuum had music. 

"Music?" Q asked, well aware that Picard would get pissy if he treated the little slip of a girl to a full court press. 

"Yes. Does it have auditory stimuli at all?" The woman's brown eyes glowed with curiosity and Q looked into her rather deeply. Quite intelligent, imaginative, and compassionate. She was wasted as a pilot. She should be in cultural studies. She would make an excellent ambassador. 

Oh well, in time her reflexes would go and she'd realize there was more to herself than cranking up the engines. 

"Yes, there is music," Q replied. "But I doubt it would appeal to most humans." 

To Q's surprise, Lt. Austin realized her welcome was now outstayed and moved on. There weren't any more visitors after that, and Q amused himself by staying close to Picard and thinking about his lover's promise to "make it up" to him later. 

_I can tell what you're thinking about just from your expression._

_Then why are we standing around here when we could be fucking and coming all over each other?_

_You might notice I'm talking to Mr. LaForge about the new dilithium lattice he's testing next week._

_Yawn. You want an antimatter explosion, I'll give you one, Mon Capitaine._

_Okay. Take me out of here._

_What?_

_You're driving me crazy and I'm about to get an erection standing here talking about crystal lattices. Let's go._

Actually, only the "g" in "go" was thought while Picard was still aboard his ship. By the time he'd reached the "o," Q had them standing in the garden of Dicsh'kat. Picard was dressed in his tan pants and a dark green shirt. Q was in his Qualen robes. 

His half-smile standing in for a thousand words, Picard strode to Q, grabbed the entity by the arms, turned him and pushed him to fall on all fours. Q went lower, settling himself on his knees and elbows, spreading his legs and arching his hips as Picard dropped his own pants, knelt, lifted up Q's purple robe and flung it over the entity's back. 

Fighting down his own instinctive worry that he was being too rough, Picard grabbed onto Q's hips and thrust into the lubricated tightness, immediately establishing a rhythm and pumping into that fire hard and fast. 

"So good," Q groaned, his body spasming with pleasure while he let Picard fuck him. It was such lazy redolence to kneel here like this and let the good captain do all the work. Pleasure shot through his body again and again and all he had to do was take it. "So good. Feeling you fucking me. So good. I love you. Oh! I love you." 

Picard realized the grass had been cut recently, and that his body was anointed in the summertime aroma. The sun was hot on his skin and somewhere several loud birds were droning on as though both angry and excited. 

Picard tried to think about those birds, tried to understand how their mates could find such noises attractive, tried to garner some ironic distance, tried to think of anything other than the feel of Q's body around his penis, Q's constant moans of pleasure, Q's body bent over and straining back against him. It didn't work. 

"I love fucking you," Picard groaned. "I sometimes think about it when I'm on duty, and suddenly all I want is to have you in front...of me and watch your body feel so good. It's like...ohhhhh...energy coming off you. You're so hot and tight, but it's more...than...oh, God...Oh, I'm coming..." 

"Do it! Come inside me!" 

Picard groaned and poured himself out. Q came a moment later in Picard's hand, and then they were sprawled out on the grass, panting and sweating in the sunlight. Their breathing slowed in time, but they did not grow cool, and it were as if the sun's heat seeped into their muscles and under their skin and commanded them into a state of drowsy contentment. The grass did tickle, though, and Q snapped up a blanket spread softly between them and the ground. He also cleaned them off and got rid of their clothes all together, and for an hour or two they did absolutely nothing but lie there. 

Finally, Q stirred. "We need to move, Jean-Luc, or sit up and look presentable." 

"Why?" Picard felt completely at peace. The idea of moving wasn't unpleasant, just...an effort. 

"Her Majesty Atharu is coming by with her little entourage in a few minutes. Looks like she's planning on a picnic." 

"And two entities like us wouldn't be welcome?" 

Q looked a little shy, and Picard was struck by how bright his eyes looked, how sweet was his expression, how strong his shape, how much he loved him. 

"Actually, we would," Q said. Something shifted inside his lover and Picard paid strict attention. "I don't think she would mind at all if we wanted to join her." 

The captain sat up, then stood up, and Q joined him, snapping away the blanket, putting them both into their casual clothes, and looking to the east (or away from the afternoon sun, Picard thought, whatever direction that was). 

"Kiss me, Q." 

Q turned immediately into his lover's embrace and joined him in a kiss that threatened never to end. There was nothing for either of them but warmth and love. Both felt almost drunk on it. 

_Are you sure you're not getting tired of me?_

_I once spent a thousand years -- well, more like 1278.568 years, Terran -- staring at the center of a protostar. And that was just to win a bet with Q. As far as I'm concerned, we've barely said hello._

Picard laughed, breaking the kiss, and then heard the sounds of an advancing crowd. With Q he turned to see a well-dressed, colorful entourage of humanoids advancing. 

In fact, the captain was amazed to see how very human-looking the Dicsh'kat were. The queen -- it was obvious somehow that she was the queen, even though her servants wore no uniforms nor walked with anything but a confident gait -- was a lovely woman with dark hair rather playfully streaked with white and a superbly confident gait. Her expression was kind, and when she saw Q and Picard standing there, she smiled deeply, as though it were the nicest surprise in the world to see visitors in her garden. 

"Hello," she said as she approached. The two-dozen servants she had brought with her spread out on both sides to prepare the clearing. Soft blankets of many colors were laid on the ground. Elaborate baskets twined through with fresh flowers were opened, and food and drink of all sorts was arranged with artful carelessness. The queen herself was dressed in a simple long-sleeved, ankle-length robe of soft grey, with a sort of wild fushia feathered boa around her neck and then over her shoulders. "Aren't you an acquaintance of Neekov?" 

"Yes," Q replied. "I'm Q. This is my husband, Jean-Luc Picard." 

"Nice to meet you," she said, her eyes twinkling but quite sincere as she nodded to the captain and gestured with her hand. "Won't you join me?" 

Picard watched in appreciation as her servants efficiently finished preparing the picnic. Musicians had set up their shining instruments near the "southern" bank of trees and began playing a soft and lively melody not unlike Pappagino's little song from "The Magic Flute," and Picard's eyes narrowed on his lover. Q sent back the smallest of shrugs. 

_Sometimes things really are just coincidences, my love._

"I wasn't aware the Q took mates," Ahtaru said as she dropped lightly to the ground and motioned for Q and Picard to join her on the blanket. "Particularly mortal ones." She frowned prettily at Jean-Luc. "You are mortal, aren't you?" 

"Not quite anymore," the captain explained with a smile, and Ahtaru laughed. 

"No, I imagine you aren't." 

The queen sat gracefully on the center blanket then, and Picard watched in muffled surprise as the feather boa around her neck moved slightly of its own accord to accommodate her movements. 

_Interesting pet,_ the man thought as he and Q took their places on the blanket, remembering with a little interior shudder the time Lwaxana Troi had worn a sprig of animated ivy as a pet at a dinner on the Enterprise, much to the consternation of the other guests. 

_I'm not a pet, Jean-Luc,_ a very pronounced voice stated in his head. The captain used his years of training to keep from reacting even mentally with anything other than a welcoming smile. _And my name is T-hon._

_It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. T-hon._

Queen Ahtaru laughed. _How lovely. Now I don't have to worry about translating._

_Do you have problems communicating with other Dicsh'kat, T-hon?_ Picard asked in surprise. 

"It took many years for me to learn how to speak properly with my husband," Ahtaru explained. "Before that...we had to manage as best we could." 

A sort of shared chuckle passed between the woman and her alien spouse, and Picard couldn't help smiling and meeting Q's eyes. The moment grew quite lovely and stretched out for quite a time. 

Three servants approached with soft backrests which were set up for the queen and her guests so each would be comfortable as they viewed the clearing before them where seven brightly-dressed performers were now assembling. Picard noted the ease with which she settled back, wrapped up in the bright pink of the "boa" and smiling in such a way that he knew she was feeling loved. 

The man couldn't help it, and made no move towards his own backrest as he watched Q settle into his place. 

Q looked at him and smiled. Opening up his arms, Q moved his legs a little apart, and the captain moved himself quietly around and back, resting his body against Q's chest, feeling his strong arms embrace him. Q's hands folded over his stomach, and Picard placed his hands on top of Q's, allowing his legs to sprawl out between his husband's. 

_I'm not too heavy?_

_Hardly, my love._

The performers bowed in unison, then began to dance as the music changed into a song that seemed a mix of "The Saber Dance" and "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." 

_Isn't that "Blu Cheese, Joy of Man's Dressing?"_

Picard groaned a laugh, tensing as he remembered he and Q weren't alone, then relaxing again as no one minded. In fact, one of the servants who was pouring out wine for them smiled to himself with satisfaction. 

_That was incredibly bad, Q. Even for you._

_He likes to make bad jokes, then?_ T-hon asked. 

_What else can I make,_ Q pouted haughtily, _and expect Humans to understand?_

_I have similar problems with Dicsh'kats,_ T-hon commiserated. 

_Oh, hush,_ Ahtaru said, _or I'll use you to dust the furniture._

T-hon bristled around her neck, and with a smile Ahtaru soothed a hand down the length of him. Picard could see faintly the light of their mutual reactions arcing between them and snuggled back just a little against Q. Q responded by leaning his head down and placing a gentle kiss on his ear. 

The dancers ended their first song, and the queen and servants reacted with little cat-calls for applause. Picard and Q joined in and the dancers bowed before beginning a new piece. 

_This dance is intended to tell the story of the Battle of Ophlei,_ Q told him quietly, not trying to be secret, just not wanting to disturb the others. _It's the battle which brought the three sister's great-grandparents to power._ The dancers were making graceful movements of agony and misery. _The people, you see, suffered greatly under the rule of the last dynasty._

Picard asked in a "voice" that was secretive, _How much of this is propaganda?_

_Not much, my little cynic,_ Q answered in kind. _This world really is tremendously better off now._ In his more public but still quiet voice he continued the story as the dancers fell to the ground, _Despair and heartbreak became the religion, and there seemed little which could be done._ A male and female dancer stood up and engaged in a lengthy and beautiful ballet. _Then Adotk'i and M'phellit found each other and their love created a...um...an underground movement, a resistance, and in time..._ The dancers all rose and engaged in acrobatic dancing that was somehow violently graceful. Picard finally realized Dicsh'kat bodies didn't quite move the same way Human bodies did. _...they rose up and vanquished the old regime._

More cat-calls followed the second performance, and then it seemed it was time to eat. The servants took the food from its showy presentations and arranged portions on plates which were set before Picard -- reluctantly sitting up from Q but still quite close to him -- and Q and the queen. She smiled at them and spoke a brief and extremely practical expression of gratitude to the Goddess. Then she took a small morsel of food from her plate with her left hand and reached up to T-hon, who pushed one end of his feather body into her hand and ate it. 

Picard and Q took a few bites of what was -- unsurprisingly -- delicious food, and then the captain spoke as politely as he could, "If you wouldn't mind, I would very much like to know how you two met." 

"It's quite the story," Ahtaru said, smiling deeply, and along with her words Picard felt her husband's amused agreement. "I was negotiating with the Gren, those are T-hon's people, through simple written exchanges. I did not even know when we began that the Gren like to talk to others through written communiqués because they do not speak, nor are capable of making any noise at all. I have been to Gren myself now -- the only non-Gren yet to do so, I'm afraid -- and it is an almost completely silent world." 

"And yet the people can hear?" 

"Oh yes, they just don't have much to listen to." 

_Spoken like a Dicsh'kat,_ T-hon teased. "If it isn't shouted, it's not worth listening to. 

"Anyway," the queen went on, refusing to be baited, "somewhere in the middle of formal discussions of trade agreements and cultural explanations, we began to address each other more personally. I found out that T-hon has something of a unique sense of humor, an inexhaustible empathy, the kindest heart I have ever known --" 

_They get the idea._

"-- and unfailing modesty." 

"Sounds like someone I know," Q said with a smile, reaching up a hand to caress Jean-Luc's cheek. The captain flushed slightly but found to his amazement that he didn't mind Q's gesture at all. It was somehow difficult to be embarrassed by a touch of Q's hand when the woman he was talking to was wearing her husband around her shoulders. 

"And soon we were arranging to meet one another." The queen looked rueful. "I don't think either of us was prepared for what that would be like, but after a few years of more letters and seeing each other on occasion..." 

_We worked things out._

Picard nodded, thinking of the obvious parallels to his relationship with Q, and sipped at his wine. It was, of course, exquisite. 

_Q, did you mess about with my taste-buds so I would like the food more?_

_Well...I had to adjust your body chemistry a bit, or you would have been poisoned just from the air._

Picard realized that Q had done that the first time they had come here. This garden must have been quite special to him even then...and the man was beginning to appreciate why. He reciprocated Q's earlier gesture, brushing the entity's face with the back of the fingers of his right hand, and Q slowly turned his head to kiss them. Picard's eyes darted to the queen, but she was looking without discomfort at a piece of food in her hand, holding it up as though for T-hon's approval, which she evidently received before she passed it up to him. Picard turned his hand and touched Q's lips with his fingertips. The musicians were softly playing a tune rather like Pachebel's Canon in D. 

"And how did you two meet?" Ahtaru asked. 

Picard laughed, his hand falling comfortably to his lap. "He showed up on my ship one day and yelled at me to get off his lawn." 

Q actually sputtered, and then they were both laughing so hard Picard had wipe his eyes. He was going to apologize, but the queen was smiling again, and instead he simply explained, the story taking some time, particularly as Q kept interrupting. 

"It wasn't my idea to scare you like that. I was under orders from the Continuum. Besides, even if you didn't like the trial, it turned out pretty well for you in the end, you know." 

"You still didn't have to freeze Tasha." 

"I was only trying to get your attention." 

Picard harumphed, and made it to the part about Riker's failed gifts before Q finally began to squirm in less than playful objection. 

"Do you have to remember the bad times so clearly?" he complained. 

"They weren't so bad," Picard said, feeling the seriousness underlying their words. Though they were trying to keep things light for their hosts' benefit, there were too many painful memories. "My love, we were just getting to know each other." 

Q looked distressed. 

"I remember a little too clearly how I felt when I realized I was falling in love with something no one on my home world would be able to see without at least some initial shock," the queen said slowly, "the same shock I was myself feeling. And I knew he could be no more pleased to see me." 

_My dear,_ T-hon said, a little distressed himself. _I still loved you. It was just...something to get used to._

Picard was about to say something about his responsibilities as a starship captain complicating the issue, but fortunately remembered his company and caught himself in time. 

"Yes," he said instead. "Q took a lot of getting used to." He went on with the story then, skipping over the Borg and having fun with the time Q had lost his powers. Q joined in now instead of interrupted, helping to paint a picture of his own heroic offer of self-sacrifice that left them all giggling. Then they told the others about Robin Hood and Vash. 

_Ah,_ T-hon said. _Getting rid of the competition, were you, Q?_

After that they skipped around Amanda and summarized the not-too-personal events of Starbase Earhart, and by the time Q was helping him relate the tale of Humanity's salvation, it was quite late in the evening. Their story wasn't told in continuous narrative, though. For each adventure they shared with the queen and her consort, Ahtaru and T-hon described events in their own lives. There was the time she had introduced him to her sisters and one of them had actually screamed. There was the first time she appeared in public with him wrapped around her neck, and even the servants had cringed in unwelcome sympathy. There was the time she had met T-hon's mothers, and been suddenly wrapped up in soft hugs and told she was adorable. There was the time she had served as his translator in the peace talks with the Ardon Armada, and together found a way to bring her people new safety and strength. 

Torches were lit and the stars were coming out and Picard realized he had never before seen the garden at night. 

Q was telling a little of their "first date" now, and the queen glowed with pleasure as she exclaimed how glad she was that her garden had been a help to their courtship. 

The stories ended peacefully after that, the wine helping them to settle back against the lowered backrests, Picard again resting against Q's chest, as they stared up at the darkening sky. Picard reasoned that in whatever galaxy Dicsh'kat could be found, the planet was near the center of it, for the sky was crowded with bright stars. The two moons appeared on the horizon, colored orange and blue with their various atmospheres. Some things very like crickets began to chirp. Q took Jean-Luc's left hand and brought it up and back to his mouth so that he could nibble on his fingertips. The servants quietly packed up the last of the day food and brought out little wedges of cheese and sliced fruit and a sweeter wine. 

_Ah, ah,_ Q warned Picard as he reached for his glass. Q took the glass instead, and then carefully brought it to his lover's lips. A piece of fruit followed. And then Picard turned and brought a small cube of white-pink cheese to Q's mouth, smiling as he ate it with a special promise in his eyes. Slowly, Picard moved forward and then they kissed, gently, not going deep, not pawing each other, just a sweet, simple kiss. 

_Stop it, T-hon, or you'll embarrass our guests._

They looked at the queen as she sat up, looking just a little disarranged, and soothed down the rustling creature on her shoulders. "It seems the time has come for us to retire. I trust you will be spending the night?" 

Picard and Q felt the other's certainty as they both nodded. 

"That's very kind," Picard told her. 

"Not at all," she said, that sincere twinkle in her eyes visible even in the firelight of the torches. 

Many servants picked up the torches to walk before and behind them to the summer castle. 

Picard had, in fact, seen it before in his walks with Q around the garden. It was made of a sort of glimmering limestone, with at least a hundred windows and white-domed towers. Enormous trees grew right up along its high walls, and a small lake, lovingly maintained by the servants, featured lovely blue birds swimming on its surface and curly pink waterpads. 

Inside the castle was a maze of halls, yet somehow it wasn't long before they were standing before a large double set of doors the servants opened. 

"I hope you will find your rooms comfortable," the queen said, nodding graciously as T-hon seemed to twine mischievously about on her shoulders. 

"I'm sure we will," Picard responded. 

"If you want for anything, just open your door and someone will help you." 

"You're too kind," Q said, matching Jean-Luc's tone perfectly. 

As soon as the door shut behind them Picard waited to feel the relief he always felt when finally alone with Q, a relief so painful at times it worried him, but none came. He realized he hadn't felt tense to begin with, and started to laugh. 

"They really are a lovely couple," he told Q, who was looking at the large bed. 

"They're doubtlessly saying the same thing about us right now. Do you want me to fuck you where you're standing or in the bed?" 

"Darling, you're so romantic," Picard drawled, moving with speed nonetheless to the comfort of the soft mattress. His clothes melted away and Q was embracing him even as he was trying to pull back the covers. Q's urgency surprised him. "We do have all night, you know." 

Q groaned, and Picard was pushed to his knees and elbows, feeling lubricant inside him a moment before Q was pushing in. 

_You have no idea how arousing your happiness is to me._ Q was reaching out then, wanting to unite, and Picard urged his own barriers to fall. He _was_ happy, he realized, happier than he'd been in a while. Only now that it was eased did he realize the nature of the pressure which had been lying on his heart for some time. 

"It was so _good,_ " he groaned as Q thrust into him, working quickly on bliss so they could use it to slide into each other's identities. "It was so good to be _with_ you while others were around, not to feel...as though we needed to hide or have to have an alternative reality to show our connection in...public" 

_I know, my own beloved. I know. I've been wanting you to meet them since the first time I knew you loved me._

_Do her sisters accept him now?_

_The one who screamed, Neekov, she does. The other...is trying. Oh, you're so tight and good and sweet and perfect._

_I was made for you to fuck, remember?_

_I remember everything._ Q reached around and traced a hot trail of sensation right along Picard's nerves, unerringly finding his nipples and pinching them just as hard as brought the most pleasure, and the man screamed. 

"I don't want to come!" he shouted next. "I just want you to fuck me!" 

_Just_ you _remember you asked for it,_ Q said almost grimly as he changed his position and took Picard's control firmly into his own. His hips moved now forward and back, thrusting his cock in and out of his lover's ass over and over, stoking his ecstasy into blinding fire that radiated to every atom of his body, every thought in his mind. 

_Good, good, good, so good,_ was all Picard could chant. Everything felt good, and then...it was too much. He had to come. He had to be one with Q. He didn't have to ask aloud. 

They were together in bliss, wrapped around each other tighter and tighter until Picard/Q was formed yet again, another eternity of being Self and Other created just for them to enjoy. 

When Q slept he didn't do it as a Human. A great part of him was still aware and alert, but the center of his consciousness walled himself off from that awareness and experienced a sort of selective oblivion. He was aware of time's passing at only the most basic level, and sometimes did awaken surprised at the lateness of the hour or the brevity of his rest. He could feel Picard next to him in a variety of ways, and for this more than anything else he enjoyed this state of near non-thought. He did not dream, but he did have light random ideas which sometimes amused him when he awoke. 

A particularly lovely thought occurred to Q as he slept in the palace bed, and his eyes opened into the faintest dawn light seeping around the delicately embroidered dark blue curtains. Sharpening his vision a bit, he turned to look down at his husband. He still found it hard to believe that Picard had seen so much of what he had wanted him to see here. Though he knew his lover was intelligent enough to see it, and could probably understand some parts of the queen and consort's life even better than he could...somehow he had still been certain this would go wrong, that Picard's feelings would be hurt at being compared to either Ahtaru or T-hon; that he would simply not get any similarities at all and wonder what Q was up to, demanding an explanation Q had no idea how to provide; that he would get bored and want to go back to his ship; that he would think the connections too overt and obvious, get uncomfortable and demand they leave. 

Instead, when they had joined, Q had learned that Picard saw the queen and T-hon exactly as he had wished, and was touched to the core to learn from Q's memories that this place actually didn't exist anymore. Q had found it and the three sister queens a thousand centuries ago, and had remembered it, and had thought of it instantly when he met Picard on the bridge of the Enterprise-D. 

_I love him,_ Q thought. _Why don't I have more confidence in his ability to see what I see, to understand me? Oh, Jean-Luc...why is making love to you so easy and loving you so hard? Why can't I just join you in bliss forever and stop worrying about everything?_

_Because it would get boring as hell, Q._

_Are we sure about that? Couldn't we give it a try and see?_

Though Q expected it, Picard didn't laugh at him, opening up his eyes to look directly inside his mate with a tenderness that made the entity ache. _We have eternity, my beloved._

_I know, but..._ Q sighed. He took Picard's warm hands and placed them on his own chest. _I worry. I know that I shouldn't, but --_

_Why shouldn't you worry? I worry. I worry all the time. There's nothing wrong with it._

_What do you worry about?_ Q suddenly looked like Qualen, ready to do battle with the Scourge. 

_About nothing you can fix with the power of the Q._ Picard sighed now, then spoke aloud, "Kiss me." 

Q frowned for an instant, then willingly lowered his head and complied. 

_Mmmmmm,_ the man told him. _Lovely._

Q pulled back to look at him. 

"Before you met me, Q, the idea of human sex seemed to you masturbatory and abusive. You indulged yourself with others for the pleasure of it and felt empty afterwards, until finally you used sexual awareness against others strictly as a means to make them feel uncomfortable and push them away. 

"Now look at you, naked in my bed, kissing me simply because I asked you to, wanting to kiss me simply because I want you to. Is there _anything_ I could do to your body or your mind you'd say no to if I wanted it?

Q shook his head, focused on each word. 

"Is there anything with my body or mind you think I'd say no to if you asked?" 

"No." 

"And yet in Human terms it was less than a year ago that you couldn't come near me without my jumping out of my skin. In Q terms it was less than an instant. We trust each other. We love each other. We unite and become each other. It's not the end...there will never be an end, a finish line, a time to relax and stop worrying about _something._ But think of how much progress it is, of how far we've come." 

"You sound like Troi." 

"Well, as irritating as she can be, she usually knows what she's talking about." 

"There's a cheerful thought." 

"Q, this is ridiculous. You know everything I'm saying. What's really wrong?" 

"Why are we talking when we could be fucking?" 

"Q!" 

"Oh, all right." Q sighed angrily and sat up. Picard sat up as well, but he put his hands on Q's knee and then once again raised his fingers to touch Q's face. The angry look disappeared and Q looked -- as Picard had suspected he would -- ashamed. 

"I don't like the idea of going back." 

"To the Enterprise?" 

"No." Q frowned again. "Yes. No -- to the party. To standing there and listening to monkey chatter while I wait for you to be done, feeling everyone..." 

"Yes? Please tell me, Q." 

"Feeling everyone resenting me, not wanting me to be there, wondering what you're doing with me, wondering why I haven't gotten bored and left you all alone. I know I haven't exactly been Mr. Social, but I _hate_ that they won't accept me as anything but some sort of dark specter they have to tolerate because they care about you. I hate the way they look at me. I hate the way they talk to me." Q laughed and Picard winced. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually respect Riker for being able to be openly angry with me." 

"He wants to like you for my sake. Troi likes you." 

"Troi likes everyone," Q groused. "And getting them to _like_ me isn't the issue." 

"Isn't it, Q?" 

Q frowned. 

"Q, is it important to you that after the rift and our rescuing Amanda the Continuum no longer thinks of me as some sort of bestial sex toy you've gone insane with?" 

"Of course it is." 

"Then don't you think it matters to me that my crew like you? That they should at least stop seeing you as my 'dark specter?'" 

"There's so many of them, and it gets so complicated..." 

"You don't have to be buddies with everyone who steps on the ship. Could you just pick one of them to start with?" 

"And do what? They have what they need." 

"You don't need to _give_ them anything, except maybe a little respect. You treat them, all of them, as though to think a kind thought about them would soil you -- or expose you to them. They're not going to go after your jugular if you let down your guard. Data once almost sacrificed himself for you!" 

"That was before he had his emotion chip." 

"Look, pick one of them, damnit, and tell me you'll try." 

Q glowered, then smiled rather slyly. "What do I get in return?" 

Picard looked thoughtful. "I'll kiss you all over and then fuck you senseless." 

"You were going to do that anyway." 

"True enough." Picard smiled. "I'll stay here until you're ready to go." 

Q looked startled. "What if that isn't for awhile?" 

"Then we won't go for awhile." 

Q nodded, looking overtly reluctant. "All right then...Troi." 

Picard nodded back, unsurprised that Q had picked the safest of them. At least Q hadn't made a farce of the whole thing and picked Beverly. "When we get back to the party you'll walk over to her and say something nice to her...not sweet, just pleasant." 

"All right." 

"And you'll pay attention to her response and not treat her like she has a defective brain." 

"All right." 

"And don't pretend you're going to have to fake it. You enjoyed talking with two mortal creatures for hours last night." 

"Only because we have a lot in common and when you start kissing me all over could you begin with my nipples?" 

"Have they been feeling neglected? You have a lot in common with Troi as well." 

Q laid back and made a face. "Please, Jean-Luc, I'm trying to get excited here." 

Picard shook his head even as he licked his fingertips. "She happens to be a good friend of mine and an intelligent, insightful woman." Lightly he trailed his fingers over Q's chest, smiling softly as Q shivered and closed his eyes. "I love to see you happy too," the man murmured, touching his nipples softly. "I'd do anything to make you happy." 

"You do, love, believe me." Q moaned as Picard applied a little tender pressure. "Jean-Luc, nothing has ever made me so happy. Nothing ever could." 

Someone knocked on the door. The two lovers looked at each other in surprise. 

"Breakfast is being served in twelve minutes," a young woman's voice called. "The queen wishes to know if you will join her at table." 

"Yes, of course," Picard replied. 

"I will inform Her Majesty." 

"You know, my love, we seem to be meeting quite a lot of royalty lately," Picard noted as he returned to his task, lowering his head so that his mouth was right over Q's, tickling him faintly with his breath. Q smiled, and Picard suddenly pinched his nipples hard. Q gasped and the captain plundered his open mouth, moving his body so that he covered Q's form. Finally, he kissed a trail to his left nipple and sucked, swirling around it with his tongue, nibbling lightly. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

"The queen wishes to know if you have any preference for the music." 

Q held up a hand to Picard and called out, "Something from her own house, please." 

"I will inform Hey Majesty." 

Picard went to his right nipple now, enjoying the taste, enjoying the shudders through his lover's body, enjoying his little sounds of pleasure, enjoying his own erection pressed into Q's thigh. 

_We only have about nine minutes left, if you're still planning to be inside me..._

Picard sucked harder and moved his hands down to Q's erection. Q whimpered and drew light touches all around Picard's back before moving down to his buttocks and stroking all that warm, soft skin. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

"Consort T-hon wishes to know if you like appo-root." 

"I adore it!" Picard announced. 

"I will inform the consort." 

_Well, I want to be inside you, but you said your nipples were feeling neglected._

Q drew his legs up. 

Picard considered his options, then took Q's erection in his hands and gathered up some of his precum on his fingertips while Q moaned and squirmed before returning to his nipples and coating the gray-pink nubs with the thick fluid. He then replaced his fingers with his lips, and Q began making constant, soft, deep little sounds. 

The knock on the door seemed inevitable. 

"The queen would like to know whether you wish to sit in the sun or the shade. 

Picard didn't stop, and Q called out as best he could, "The sun!" 

"I will inform Her Majesty." 

_Hurry up. Oh, please hurry. I won't be able to sit through breakfast if you don't fuck me first._

Picard considered telling Q he wanted him to take them out of time, but knew why it would feel wrong to them both, a mark against the beauty of this place. 

Leaving his lover's chest with reluctance, the man raised his head and repositioned his body. Q groaned and spread his legs out wider. 

Someone knocked at the door. 

"The queen would like to know if you would prefer to have breakfast served in one hour." 

"Her Majesty is as wise as she is beautiful!" 

"And how!" 

"I will inform Her Majesty." 

Picard returned immediately to Q's nipples, lapping them with his tongue, twisting them gently with his fingers, nibbling and sucking. 

_I can't stand the idea any part of you wasn't getting what it needed._

"I think...ohhhh...you've...ah ahhhhhh..." _made up for any possible neglect._

Leaving his fingers to continue their teasing of Q's nipples, Picard moved his mouth slowly down Q's chest, tracing with the tip of his tongue a circle around and around his navel and then further down to the base of his lover's hard cock, which he kissed all the way up to the glistening tip. 

"Oh, Jean-Luc! Suck me! Fuck me! Do _something!_ " 

Picard grabbed the pillows from the head of the bed and shoved them under Q's hips, the entity raising his body and spreading his legs wide and straining in an effort not to scream. 

_A little sound-proofing might be a good idea, and not too much of a cheat, don't you think, my love?_

"Ugghhh! That's just your finger." 

"Two fingers actually. More lubricant, Q." 

Q frowned and complied, reaching out to find that his lover's mind was closed to him. Picard gently added in another finger. 

"I'm ready for you, love. You're not going to hurt me." 

"Actually, it might hurt a little. But I'm going to take it very slowly." 

Q got very, very still, except for his cock, which was throbbing like mad, and his heart, which was pounding insanely. 

"What are you going to do?" 

Picard looked into his eyes then, and Q saw lust, deep and thick. 

"Something I read about." 

Q groaned. "Are you going to fist me?" 

"You've been doing your reading too." Jean-Luc smiled, and Q almost came just from the promise of pleasure on his lover's face. That's when he realized Picard had taken complete control of his ability to come. "Yes, I'm going to stick my fist inside you and then...I have a few other things planned." 

"Let me come, then do them." 

Picard smiled again, but shook his head slowly. "When you sit down at breakfast, I think you're going to be rather sore." 

Q started shivering. This was strange and scary and exciting. Picard looked so determined, so calculating as he sat there between Q's legs, working now the fourth finger inside, and then pushing all his fingers deeper inside Q's ass. 

"And when you sit you'll feel where I was inside you, and remember how good it felt." 

"Ahhhh," Q said, his head lolling back a bit as he thought up more lube. It hurt, but it was so intense. More than anything, Q felt reticent about asking for things that hurt. He wasn't sure why he liked the flavor of mild pain mixed in with strong pleasure, except that it made the whole mix of sensation somehow more intense, more _Jean-Luc_ touching him, the only being in the universe he allowed to make him feel that way. He didn't want to be hit, or spanked. Anything which would do real damage to a Human body -- cut him or even deeply bruise him -- was too much. But he liked the occasional bite, and he loved it when Picard pounded into his ass, rubbing him sweetly raw inside, he loved it when Picard gripped him so hard he left little marks, and he loved hickeys on his neck. 

And he was really, really loving this. Picard was taking it so slow that the heat from being stretched burned only a little. Q thought more lubricant -- warm and slick -- and Picard slid in a little farther while Q felt his cock leak. Unable to help it, he reached out again, and now Picard let him in a little. Q saw himself clearly, spread out and gasping and moaning while Jean-Luc's hand tucked its thumb in to form a wedge and then disappeared inside his ass, and he screamed and tried to come. His body spasmed without release, pleasure-fire roared along his nerves. 

"Please...let me come...I will...get...hard again...right after." 

But instead Picard pushed forward a little more, and Q knew he was getting his knuckles through his ring. It was the most painful part, and it was almost too much, but then the pressure eased in that spot and increased deep inside him. 

"I'm in. Do you still want to come right now?" 

"Ugghhhh." Q felt exhausted and yet taut along every inch of his skin, strung like the deep bass section of the Terran Philharmonic. "I want you...to do...whatever you want...with me, and...watch me...enjoy it." 

"Forever, my love." And Picard moved his hand, gently, rubbing his knuckles right against that tiny gland. Had he been rough at all, Q would have screamed and asked him to stop, but he was so careful, almost tentative with his fist shoved inside Q's body, the gentleness enhanced by the great potential for violence. Q groaned and shuddered and tried to come regardless of stated intentions. He was alive with pleasure, lit with it, burning with it. 

And every wave of it radiated directly into his lover. Jean-Luc was trying to concentrate, trying to be gentle in this new and somewhat perilous act. He'd thought about doing this for some time now, but Q had never suggested it and he hadn't been sure...he still hadn't been when he'd started, but he was now. Since Q had first fucked Jean-Luc with his tongue, the captain had been trying to find something Q would find equally astonishing. Something that was just as physically amazing. But fisting Q had always seemed so...extreme. More than once Picard had caught himself looking at the size of his own hands and worrying about how much it might hurt, and how reluctant Q would be to tell him it hurt too much. 

But no, he'd kept strict tabs on everything Q was feeling, and the pain he'd so feared to inflict on his lover was nothing compared to the pleasure Jean-Luc saw dancing now in Q's body. He could see the ripples of it moving in the rhythm of Q's pulsing cock and the tiny motions of Picard's hand. 

"There's nothing," Q gasped, feeling each wave of those ripples right down to his core. He felt exposed and split open and yet instead of the pain that instinct still warned him came with vulnerability, there was only pleasure, only the fulfillment of his deepest needs, only "...your hand. Only...you." 

Picard took a steadying breath. Time for phase two. 

Drawing his knuckles over Q's prostate again, Jean-Luc leaned down and gently took Q's leaking, aching cock in his mouth. 

"JEAN-LUC!" Q bellowed, his whole body arching, trying and trying and _trying_ to come. He felt completely surrounded by unbearably erotic love, filled with and fucking into fire and bliss. It was more physical pleasure than his body had ever achieved, combined with the incredible joy that his lover was doing this to him as an expression of their love, was interested only in bringing him that ecstasy. Q's trust had allowed this to happen. Q's trust and Jean-Luc's love and it was too good to think about how good it was. 

Picard teased him just a moment longer, then sucked hard, pushed gently and let go of Q's control. 

Hot semen rushed into his mouth, Q's body spasmed deeply, over and over, clenching around his fist, releasing and clenching again, and the energy wave of ecstasy crashed and broke over Picard like a monsoon. On and on it raged, Q screaming and coming while Picard hung on for his life and swallowed and swallowed. The man almost blacked out, battered by his husband's pleasure, but was spared when Q himself went under and sprawled, suddenly lax. 

Gently, Picard released his cock, giving the soft, spent organ a kiss along the shaft. Then, gingerly, he removed his hand, wincing at the blood. There wasn't much, but there was enough for the man's unspent erection to begin to soften. Q's body twitched and shivered, and Picard crawled up to lay on top of him, keeping him warm and holding him close as his own body seemed to shut down, losing its erection completely, warmed and sated nonetheless by the memory of how good he'd made Q feel. 

Only a couple of minutes before they were to appear at breakfast, Q woke up. 

"You didn't come." 

"You can do me after breakfast." 

Q was distressed, enfolding him in strong arms. "You've come from feeling me come before." 

"I didn't want to come. I just wanted to feel you come." 

Q's eyes closed and he moaned slightly. "Kiss me, please." 

For a long minute he did. Then he released Q and entity sat up with him in bed. He winced, then smiled. "I'm sore all right." 

Then he snapped his fingers sharply and they were clean and dressed in comfortable clothes. Both were in black pants, Q in a red shirt and Picard in dark green. 

"Did you heal yourself? I drew blood..." 

"I'm _fine._ I'm better than fine. I feel fan-fucking-tastic." Picard smiled and shook his head, and Q swooped in for another kiss. "After breakfast, I'm going to get you all worked up, turn you over, and lick you out until you come four times." 

The man's heart thudded while someone knocked on the door. 

"Coming!" Q called, leering at his lover. 

They emerged from their bedroom to find a sort of herald who led them to a hallway which ended with a grand set of double doors. The herald knocked, and a moment later the queen emerged wearing a dark blue dress and her fucia husband. There was high color in her cheeks and a bright shine in her eyes. 

"Good morning," she told them with her sincere twinkle. They bowed slightly and led her to breakfast. 

Picard and Q ended up staying for almost a month, and left with every intention of returning often. That Ahtaru and T-hon would always welcome them was assured by three events. 

The first came during that first breakfast together. Q was sitting there smiling at the ache sitting caused, the queen was sitting there with a high flush on her cheeks, T-hon was bristling out a sort of electric pleasure, all the servants were hiding smiles, and Picard abruptly realized that having himself and Q there was as good for his hosts as it was for him and Q. 

The second came after dinner during the second week. T-hon has just hesitantly shared with them two of the poems he had written for Ahtaru back when they had nothing but the letters they wrote. Picard and Q had been moved almost to tears by the simple declaration of a love they understood so well -- the queen herself was weeping openly -- when the consort had asked if their guests had anything they could share as well. 

"Well, we already told you about Sherwood Forest," Picard joked, greatly amused now to think of that entire ridiculous adventure as part of their "courtship." Q laughed as well, T-hon and Ahtaru smiled. And then Jean-Luc thought of something, and turned hesitantly to his lover with a half-formed request. 

Q loved the idea, and immediately pulled Picard's flute from his shirt pocket to hand it to him. 

"Yes, please play it, my love." 

And so for the first time in his life Picard had a public flute recital, playing for their hosts the final version Picard had made of what had been the improvised melody he first played in his quarters while missing his husband. He had structured it with the simple AAB design and now played it through twice, enjoying the resonance of the notes in the large dining hall, appreciating the quiet stillness of the servants, loving the way Q stared at him as he played, loving the way playing the melody still felt like making love to Q with music. 

When it was over, Picard took the flute from his lips and hesitantly looked to the queen and her consort, who looked back for several amazed seconds, then burst into cat-call applause and begged him to play something else. Picard felt warmed from head to toe. 

Q, however, growled, "Tomorrow," stood up, grabbed his husband and dragged him from the room, down the halls, into their bedroom, onto the bed, and then kissed him, splashed him, sucked him, and fucked him until the dawn. 

The third came when Ahtaru and T-hon turned out to be a bit more perceptive than even Q had realized. 

Only a few days into their stay, Q had decided that he wanted to give the monarch and her consort a present. Picard agreed to the notion until he found out what Q considered to be an appropriate "gift." 

"Q, you're talking about something that would significantly alter the nature of their relationship." 

"Of course it would, for the better." 

"You don't know that." 

"Jean-Luc, the way they are now they can only get close mentally. They've learned to do without the physical stuff, but that doesn't mean they don't want it." 

"It doesn't mean they do want it, either. You can't just burst in on their relationship and make them physically compatible." 

"'It doesn't mean they do want it?' Are you saying that if you couldn't kiss me you wouldn't want to?" 

"Of course I'm not saying that. But we know what we want...or we are trying to figure it out, anyway. Their relationship is their own." 

Q frowned, leaning back in the bed and running a hand in his hair, both of them unaware that the gesture looked much like the one Picard often made, just with more hair. Then he thought a while, and Picard let him, laying naked beside him, warm in their bed, thinking of the morning and their arrangement to go sailing with their hosts on a sea Q claimed glittered gold in the sunlight. Q reached over then, grabbing his far hip and shoving his body right against his own. Then he slid his hand between his partner's legs and lightly caressed his penis, not masturbating him, not yet, just caressing. 

"What if we made it contingent on what they want?" 

"I'm sure you couldn't possibly mean something as simple as just asking them if they want you to do it." 

Q smiled. "Of course." He turned to look down at what he was doing. "You have a gorgeous penis, do you know that?" 

Picard was starting to get a little hard, even though his ass was still warm from having been fucked wildly just a moment ago. "So you've told me." He reached over and took Q's in hand as well. "Yours is quite lovely as well." He began little caresses that enjoyed that ridged warmth. "So what do you mean if you don't mean asking them?" 

"They already spend a lot of time in each other's dreams. We could just make it so that the option of projecting themselves into Dicsh'kat or Gren shape would occur to them, and then, only if they pursued it...ohhhh...they would be able to do as they liked...yessss..." 

"So they would be able to project a sort of mental equi...hmmmmm...equivalent of taking on their other's form?" 

"Yes, oh yes...fucking as two Gren or as two...oh, it's your turn to fuck me, you know." 

"Turn over and I will." 

Q rolled over and got on elbows and knees and then just waited. Picard didn't move into him immediately, however, and, puzzled, the entity reached out. 

_What..?_

_I'm looking at you waiting for me to sick my cock in your ass, and it feels so good to think about it I don't want to do it yet. Could we really give them this, if they want it?_

_Yes. Look at me as long as you like. I'm ready for you whenever you want me._

_I always want you, Q. I will always want you._ And, experimenting, Picard rolled up all the strength and all the sweetness of wanting Q up into a ball and flung it into his lover and Q howled and came, arching his body and spurting onto the bed, and even as his body was spasming, his lover grabbed his hips and pushed himself inside. Q retaliated, throwing back the compact ball of his own desire right inside Picard, and the man howled and arched and came inside Q's body, which set Q off again. 

Eventually that night, they agreed on how the present should be handled, and Q "gave" it to their guests. For the rest of their stay they had no idea whether Ahtaru and T-hon made use of the ability Q offered them. Their hosts did seem incredibly happy, but the cause could have been any of a hundred things, and probably was a mixture of them all. 

And then the weather grew a little hotter, and Ahtaru had a trade conference, Q felt ready to return to the party, and they all ate a pleasant breakfast together out on a terrace, the pink-blue sky sweet and bright over their heads as the strange honks of the blue "ducks" from the pond reaching up to them like miniature fog horns. 

"You will be visiting again, then?" T-hon was asking. "Soon?" 

"Yes," Q said. "Very soon and very often." After all, he knew how the history of this world played out until this entire civilization became the race of telepathic inter-stellar nomads that it was in Picard's present. He knew when they could come here without changing anything except the level of enjoyment the queen and her husband received from their isolation. Over the eternity that he was going to spend with Picard, they would eventually fill all the nooks and crannies of those "safe" times with visits, but that wouldn't be for quite a satisfying while. 

"My people have a saying," Picard said after wiping gaff-berry jelly from his lips with a soft white napkin. "'Au revoir.' It doesn't mean good-bye, just 'until we meet again.'" 

_Do you have any idea how long Frenchmen have been using that line, Jean-Luc?_

_Yes, and we use it because it works so well._

And, indeed, the queen and T-hon were both "smiling" now. Then Ahtaru cleared her throat and seemed to get permission from her lover to say something. 

"Last night, when I...was looking into my husband's eyes, we decided we couldn't let you leave without saying thank you." 

Picard and Q sat very sit a moment, then smiled themselves, deeply pleased that their present had been a welcome one after all. 

Made bold now by their comfortable intimacy, Picard actually allowed himself to ask, "May I know: what does T-hon look like?" 

Ahtaru seemed puzzled a moment, then smiled again. "Actually, accounting for important differences, he looks rather like me." 

Troi noticed immediately that something had changed. One second she had been feeling nothing from her captain and her captain's husband, and then she was hit hard with blinding happiness. She kept herself still, betraying nothing, feeling rather lost as the sensation ebbed. For the first time, she realized that Q's psychic shielding was not simply a static barricade but a constantly fluctuating buffer which adapted to the emotional output of its users. Wherever they had been when Q took them out of time, they had either been so happy the shielding hadn't been compensating, or so comfortable they hadn't needed the shielding at all. 

_How awful for them,_ she thought. _To come back "home" and then put their armor on._

Someone standing near her shoulder sighed. "Jean-Luc is right. You are rather wise, actually." 

Troi turned in near-shock to face Q, expecting him to take the comment back in one of a thousand well-practiced ways. Instead, he simply looked at her, waiting, she realized, for her to say something. 

"It isn't necessary to block me so completely," she found herself telling him in a voice that wouldn't be overheard by others. "I know you let me sense from him what I need for my job, but when it comes to any feelings between you two, I might as well be with holographic characters. I appreciate that I probably can't take the whole thing without being seriously distracted, but ever sense that day in his ready room, I have been...pulling for you." 

Q's eyes darted to Picard, then back, and Troi felt something relax in him, and then she felt that happiness again, faintly, about at the level she'd feel from a psychically untalented human. She smiled. 

"So, wherever you went I take it you had a nice time?" 

"Very nice. I hear you and Number...Riker have set the date." 

Troi nodded, feeling something altogether new from Q now. With surprise, she realized it was effort. "Yes. Will you be there at the wedding? We'd both like it." 

Q struggled slightly, then tossed out, "Yes, I'll be there." 

Troi's eyes twinkled. "We're hoping Worf and Jadzia will be there as well." 

Q struggled a bit harder this time. "That would...be nice." 

Troi laughed, and, after a moment, so did Q. 

Picard had finished his talk of crystal lattices with LaForge and walked a curving line to his husband and the ship's counselor. He stood at Q's elbow a moment, listening to them discuss wedding music, before, quietly, he slipped his hand into Q's and held on tight. 

THE END 

Picard and Q will return in _The Q Who Loved Me._


End file.
